


Howl, My Darling, Howl

by TemptingDarkness



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Blood, M/M, dark themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-22
Updated: 2013-09-01
Packaged: 2017-12-24 07:36:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/937251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TemptingDarkness/pseuds/TemptingDarkness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I was never adventurous before hearing the tale—his tale-- that became a lullaby amongst the tongues of the toothless elders in the starry nights of the ancient past."</p>
<p>Living a simple life in his village, Aoba attends to storytelling event in his village square with his childhood friend Koujaku.  A beast's story, the priest is talking about awakens a strange urge inside  him.  He wants to find him; see the man that becomes a beast because of a one sided love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. “The Beginning of My End”

**Author's Note:**

> *Can be a character death at the end of the story;  
> Aoba is around his teenage years; below 18.

_Howl, My Darling, Howl_   
_Chapter 1_   
_“The Beginning of My End”_

_…After all I am to hear the bittersweet songs of your insatiable hunger for my bleeding; torn flesh._

_“Iyada! Yame-Yamero! F…Fwahhhh!”_

_I am your sacrifice; beautiful beast._   
_~~O~~_   
_The Russian roulette I played with the black and violet flames of the thick and starless woods. I should have left the nature’s endless nest of unknown creatures… undisturbed. The beautiful emerald gown of god’s far, far away forest was a breathing shadow for the undying beasts—The human mind cannot understand. The gift that came and breathed the crystal blue, blue heaven of our little village—beneath the magical fingertips of the weapon creator—became a forgotten whistle of silver and iron before the taunt white pearl fangs whose frost tips were dyed in drunken blood of a twitching piece of forgotten meat. I was never adventurous before hearing the tale—his tale-- that became a lullaby amongst the tongues of the toothless elders in the starry nights of the ancient past._

_“Aoba! Aoba! It is starting! Let’s hear another story!”_

_The beautiful hazel eyes raised beneath the swaying, thick lashes that fell upon my snow flaked cheekbones; the rosy; untainted lips were closing and opening around the wooden harmonica between my creamy palms; the soothing; curing angelic melodies that rose from the each breath that flew from my animated; roseate plumpness to my treasure were telling my own unfolding story to the starry night sky._

_My childhood friend’s blossomed voice amongst my garden; my sanctuary of roses made me lower and lower my musical notes before the wooden instrument rested upon my crossed legs._

_“You really love listening those stories, na, Koujaku?”_

_An angelic smile dawned upon my pink petaled lips when I began to rise to my height—the tales that were passed from one generation to another did not awake an interest in my mind; they were only fairytales, I thought._

_“They are awesome! You slowpoke~ Come on, if we don’t run now, we won’t find a place to sit in the circle.”_

_The irony, I thought, when the silver lined whistle of wind beneath the gaze of the diamond of night sky placed soft kisses upon my whiteness hazed cheeks. This raven of a black and ruby feathered nest was training to become a master swordsman in the hands of faceless knights of glory and honor. One would think that this boy would have the seeds of a statue planted in his youth; yet, he was glowering with an endless desire to live his passing child soul. A beautiful melody of careless laughter escaped from the flushed lips of my own; the dance of the swaying fireflies brought a distant sense of peace of mind and heart before my eyes; I did not want to leave this ancient willow tree, thick and long emerald gown of the earth and the beautiful scent, aroma that the wild flowers in this garden of wilderness bring—away from the festival below my hill._

_“O~kay~Be calm, jeez.”_

_Still though I was not a heartless machine of oil and metal pieces; I do want to be my friend when he has the time to leave the chambers of sworn loyalty to our peace. A golden brown; leather pouch I carried beneath my fading and worn blue sleeved shirt for my musical instrument—the whiteness hazed, ghostened fingertips let my harmonica lay amongst its own house when I began to run towards his tall; impatient shadow._

_“If I miss the opening ceremony the storyteller gives—again—I am going to tickle you so hard.”_

_“Oh, come on! B…aka! That ceremony only consists of hymns.”_

_“Damn right. I want to hear it from beginning to end, you little—“_

_“Heh. And the storyteller you talk about is the priest; even I know where he lives—such an old geezer.”_

_“Oi! Buddy, buddy! Don’t burst my bubble!”_

_“f…h…Haha!”_

_“You…laughing little…”_

_The echoes of our high pitched laughter became drowned amongst the sea of swaying lanterns that were bounded amidst the rustling emerald leaves with a piece of rope; when our soundless footsteps began to reach the village square. Masses of young children and grown men and women tangled amongst a sea of cushions that were embellished with the dyes of an artisan’s golden palette. Comfortable and wide enough for three or four people to share when listening to the stories; my golden hues could not see one that was left without a momentary owner. A comical sigh I heard from beside me when a broad hand held upon my much, much more smaller one._

_“—Kouja…”_

_“There is no place for us to sit. Why don’t we try the branches of a tree?”_

_“H…Hai.”_

_Sometimes…Sometimes…I wonder; how can this black, black feathered raven become a strong leader of a wolf pack without losing his beautiful feathers that did not want to fade to gray?_

_“Shall I help; my fragile princess?”_

_“Hah. Help yourself; my foolish knight.”_

_Another breeze of careless; reckless laughter flew from our endless joy when we reached the dark coffee colored branch underneath the shade of dancing leaves. Side by side we sat when I raised a clothed knee to my lean chest to rest my forearm._

_“Oh. It is starting!”_

_“Heh. The old geezer appeared.”_

_“Aoba!”_

_“…h…haha…gomen~”_

_Although I was a mocking bird for this elder of church’s hands; my hazel eyes began to disappear beneath my swaying lashes when they slumbered against the snow flaked cheekbones; the ebony arrows of ink droplets smiled against my milkened skin. His song for angel’s blessings and the creator’s forgiveness began to soothe; heal my bittersweet soul and dying heart. One day I would become a skeleton beneath the soft; golden brown soil…I knew; yet, the priest’s call for us humans to travel the path of goodness chased the bitter thought away. The ones that knew the prayer murmured along with him; the silent breaths of the villagers flew with the gentle wind; yet, I only listened, listened and…listened…_

_“Oh, God…Save our souls from the ill-willed shadows that move among us. Don’t let the evil snake tempt us, my God. We are your servants until our last breath. Amen.”_

_His last prayers…evil snake…ill-willed shadows…_

_“Today, my children, a beast I am to tell is not a purebred…Rather, it is a human that became plagued by his own animal instincts. Gather around, my children, and listen to what this elder offers to give.”_

_A whisper I heard beside my ear—_

_“Do you think it is possible Aoba? A human…becoming a monster?”_

_“I…don’t know…”_

_My own roseate lips began to move when the golden honey eyes rose from the shadowing lashes of mine to watch his scarlet rubies that harbored a trace of serious demeanor. A human becoming a beast…must be a fairytale._

_“—imagine a love conquers your heart; imagine a worthless beloved that give you nothing more than a merciless gaze—“_

_His tale began…that night the beast lured me; called me…The human that became a beast…I wanted to see such creature myself; a foolish thought I were to realize. He calls me, though, he calls…me…_


	2. “His Tale, My Memories” -Part 1-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *A small scene of brotherly love between Aoba and Koujaku.  
> *In Part 2 the storytelling and memories will continue.

**_Chapter 2_ **

**_“His Tale, My Memories”_ **

**_-Part 1-_ **

_The bittersweet tragedy that befallen upon a cursed human rose and fell and carved ashes inside my little heart; as the elder’s song was carried to far, far away lands in the swaying ocean of lanterns._

_“—Born as a prisoner to his own enslaved blood; he was left to the hands of a merciless embrace of the winter night; away from his kind, away from a master’s pity—“_

_Whiteness hazed fingertips curled along the faded blue ink of my sleeve when ashes of a distant mist fell amongst the hazel eyes—Slavery.  The stolen fragments of my own buried history began to rise from the dark, dark cave of frozen skeletons._

_~~~~~_

_A summer day of burning sand castle’s reign. The bazaar built from dark, dark brown wooden planks and columns that almost drown in creeping blackness—was standing alone amongst the rain of sun’s wrath.  The beautiful hands of the aged women in our village brought countless pieces of worn; stained table cloths, blankets and tulles to create a hand-made shade for our grand bazaar.  Although the wrath of the sun’s cursed the birth of fresh vegetables and fruits; the village square was scenery of shining diamonds amongst the vast lands of sand and an oasis fantasy._

_“...lalala~”_

_A young boy I was--perhaps at the age of seven--creamy legs were crossed under my small body as I was humming a child’s song between big and juicy bites from my red, red apple._

_“The caravan of the slave trader is about to enter the village square!”_

_A booming voice came from an iron speaker of rain and dust dye that dangled above our head.  The caravan was coming…_

_The curious amber gaze fell upon the faceless shadows whose lives were chained to either thread of wool; silk or a leather of ill-willed kings and queens.  The whispers of the villagers around me became drowned amongst the wooden wheel that turned and turned with endless machine sound._

_“…”_

_A pair of elegant golden brown jewels raised from the dark, dark shadows of the caravan and our eyes—mine carrying a child~like curiosity; became lost in my own land of dreams; his were carrying a beautiful hazel crown; a shine in a drowning darkness that surrounds him _—met._  
_

_~~~~_

_“Aoba…Aoba!”_

_The fallen shard of my own red ruby of memories began to fade from the silver webs of my mind; when firm fingers gave a gentle shake to my shoulder to wake me—from far, far away ocean of a forgotten past._

_“—Ah.  Koujaku.”_

_The hazel eyes blinked the shapeless blur of the mist away._

_“You seemed to become a lifeless doll.”_

_His silent whisper was a flower of concern._

_“…Oh?  Iyada.  I just remembered a memory.  I will tell you later, na?”_

_A playful wink I threw at him; the beautiful azure strands fell upon my snow flaked cheeks; graceful as a fallen autumn leaf._

_“You will tell me, no matter what~”_

_“I don’t have a chance to escape, na, baka~”_

_“Nope.”_

_A beautiful melody escaped from my lips when a milkened palm rested upon his hand.  I was glad…to have him…at my side._

_“Aoba…”a rose’s fallen kiss; my knight gave.  Magic of calm sea swirled inside my silver webs of mind when his gentle kiss upon my whiteness hazed forehead…brought a flower’s beauty and shine amongst my swarm of dead thoughts.  Peace of mind; he gave me._

_”You are such a child.”_

_A small structured; creamy chin rested upon his broad shoulder when a scarlet flame of a maiden’s shyness became a pretty décor upon my cheekbone._

_”And you…a grown baby.”_

_“Touche.”_

_How, my darling, howl…Howling of an enraged beast began to echo inside my hearing…The hazel eyes of the slave that shone with a stubborn desire to stay…alive…I could see before my own…The slave’s eyes and the beast’s restless howl held me a prisoner within the embrace of my sworn brother._


	3. "His Tale, My Memories" -Part 2-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *continuation of Part 1  
> *The girl named Yona is just for the purpose of this chapter.

**_“His Tale, My Memories”_ **

**_-Part 2-_ **

_“…h—“_

_A trembling breath of a beautiful widow’s rising and rising cries for her cruel, cruel fate…escaped from my own lips when my crystalline snow flake coated fingertips curled around the scarlet Indian tulle embellished kimono Koujaku wore to honor his bloodline—The slave…he…his bittersweet golden eyes that carried a beautiful, beautiful flame despite the choking; black, black oil he had to drink from his master’s hands—were tormenting me, haunting me.  Even though my thick and ebony ink laced lashes were resting upon my snowy cheekbones in pastel colors of happiness; my eyes that became hidden beneath my theatre masque sang voiceless pleas for him to leave me…alone.   White pearl teeth that became shapeless blurs of pearls; beneath the beautiful hues of dancing lanterns above us; pierced through my oval shaped bottom lip when I trembled with a dawning fright of a far, far away howl…that echoed inside my mind…_

_A crying agony._

_A black, black flame of breathed hatred—For who?  For what?_

_…It was inside my mind…_

_It was not real, I told myself.  It could not be.  The beauty of swaying emerald leaves and slumbering golden brown patches of earth—the forest—was far, far away from our small village.  The weeping melodies the moonlight walkers of the towering shadow of a beautiful forest sang; could not reach our ears._

_So…w-why his broken hearted howling echoes inside my ears?_

_Must be my imagination._

_Must be my imagination._

_Must be my…imagination…_

_One more, one more!_

_Say it with me._

_Repeat, my mind, repeat._

_My—_

_“Aoba.”_

_Thank you, Kami~sama.  A voiceless voice soared from my bleeding, bleeding heart when I felt a fallen feather resembling softness of my sworn brother’s palm upon my whiteness hazed cheek—seeking for the beautiful, laughing hazel eyes he loved with his heart._

_“Aoba.  Are you alright?”_

_The blue, blue sway of my hair fell upon my snow flaked cheeks and small structured chin; when my eyes rose from the wandering nightingale’s song of a crying, crying heart.  His gentle thumb began to draw shapeless circles upon my cheekbones to chase my bottomless fright and restless souls away from my tensed, boyish muscles.  A beautiful and calm smile dawned upon my pearlette lips.  Arigatou, Koujaku, for being my only; only wooden shelter for me to slumber within in my rainy days—after…after my grandmother’s timeless and sudden departure from this earth._

_“Yes.  I am—“_

_“…We can go if you want to.”_

_“Iyada.  I am fine, really.”_

_“But—“_

_“Na~Don’t you believe in my words, Koujaku?”_

_“Okay, okay.  You little imp.  Don’t scare me too much, alright?”_

_“Hehe.  Gotcha!”_

_He must have understood, he must have saw…the black, black figure that dug his merciless; ruthless claws inside the bleeding, bleeding, bleeding walls of my sanity—the scarlet red of the dripping, dripping liquid resembled the flowing blood from a torn piece of fresh meat from the victim’s twitching limps._

_Perhaps, I should leave.  Perhaps, I should wet my lips in my friend’s calming cure for the seeds of an unknown sickness that became planted in the vast desert of my mind.  Yet…I wanted to hear his tale…from the beginning to the end._

_“—No master wanted this slave.  He was too stubborn to let hands of another human control his mind and actions.  Thus…he was thrown to the arms of cold Arctic nights and heated Arabic days.  Days have passed, my children, the days have passed.  His body weakened from lack of proper meal and food; yet, the iron will my children…His eyes still shone with desire to live.  One blessed or doomed day, an angel appeared to save him; yet the beauty was only an angel in his eyes.  His heartless beloved came with an offer—“_

_The memoirs._

_The forgotten memoirs of a fallen flower from my tree…_

_…Of me…Of me and a…a…slave…_

_I don’t understand anymore.  His eyes are—still—watching me._

_I could only close my worn eyes and lean my cold, cold forehead upon my sworn knight’s shoulder; watching the crystal piece of mirror playing my buried pages from my own history._

_  
_

_~~~~~_

_The summer nights…the nights of gypsies…the nights of us.  When the toothless elders and voiceless voices of storytellers retreat to their houses for the midnight walkers’ reign, we would appear._

_Dance._

_Dance._

_Dance._

_The wildfire we would create from dry woods; would be our light.  The youth’s musique would rose and fell; rose and fell from the silver pearl décor carrying flutes and harmonicas when two figures would dance around the red, red flame that whispered our unspoken love._

_Me and her._

_I was only thirteen years old; what would I know of love?_

_Yet, I loved this girl as we danced, danced and danced._

_My barren; snow flaked arm would embrace her small, small waist—resembling the beautiful, beautiful angels welcoming us to our church—my cold, cold yet gentle fingertips would curl around her creamy, whiteness hazed; naked stomach.  Musique would rose and fell; rose and fell when our crystal irises—mine choking yellow, hers mystic ebony—would met.  Her arms would reach to embrace my strong neck; the artisan drawings of golden sand and scarlet fire colored flowers that started from her delicate wrists and ended upon her elbows; would not cease to leave me breathless.  The silk yellow tulles that fell from her elbows to her barren feet would carry the elegance of a fallen feather of a newborn bird.  Our snowy tips of noses would touch and flirt with one another when our dance would reach its bittersweet end.  My other arm would reach for her milk coated leg that became hidden beneath her long, long silk golden flowers embellished skirt; that danced above the gray shaded emerald weeds and brownish patches of soil.   I would not want to any harm befallen upon my dancing goddess, I would think, when I would raise her leg and let it rest upon my boyish muscled waist.  I would then dip her upper body to the earth where our flame and musique would become one._

_“Sly.”_

_She would say…that was my name, how they would call me, in this gypsie carnival we created._

_“Yona.”_

_That was her name…That is how I know her._

_“Tomorrow we will do this again, na?”_

_“Hell yeah, baby.”_

_Sweet laughter would leave from our lips when we would say our goodbye in our youth’s language and we would leave the square in drowning silence.  Night would claim the square as its own._

_I reached for my leather pouch when my fingers curl around a chocolate chipped biscuit my grandmother gave me in a blue dotted handkerchief.  She was always, always worried about my slender figure.  She would at least wish for me to eat a piece of her homemade biscuits after my dance ended._

_When my white pearl teeth began to pierce through sweet aroma of the biscuit, beautiful golden brown hues chased the smothering hands of shadows away from the alley I was passing along.  A stray animal, perhaps…The poor thing must have been starved under the golden sand’s reign, I thought when my soundless steps echoed amongst the swaying dust beneath my feet; resembling a firefly that began to sway towards a bright, bright light, I began to reach for those shining hazel irises._

_“Ah~”_

_For my slight disappointment there was not a small creature for me to feed in the alley; yet, there was a boy; his golden brown eyes were watching my boyish figure.  He was resting against a brick wall that was dyed in pale brown; his barren yet boyish muscled chest rose and fell; rose and fell in voiceless whispers.  His moon dewed arms were dangling from the raised knees.  What caught my attention was though was his defined muscles.  How old was he, I wondered in my simple minded silence.   When my eyes were fallen to the black ink markings—two large vertical strokes of an artisan’s brush—a bittersweet smile dawned upon my lips._

_“A slave huh?  Oi, buddy.  Are you hungry?”_

_A creamy palm rested upon a chipped brick when those breathtaking irises rose in a quite desire; the hazel crystals were burning, burning with a flame I could not understand._

_“I can give you some biscuits, do you want them?”_

_As soon as he heard my promising words, his knees fell upon the unforgiving, merciless ground and his palms rose—almost a sweet, sweet syrup of laughter dripped from my oval shaped lips.  He resembled a dog._

_“Hai.  Here you go, puppy.”_

_I could almost hear a taste~less growl coming from his opening and closing lips—humiliated, huh?  Well, I did not care._

_The whiteness hazed fingertips curled around the silk handkerchief that held the sweet, sweet flavored biscuits when I placed them in his palms in gentleness.  My young heart fluttered when his lips curled into an angelic smile before he began to eat.  It was a nice feeling to help others, na?_

_A milk coated palm rested upon my lean waist when a thought came to my swaying mind.  What if…he comes with me—he could help my grandmother with house chores._

_“Oi.  Come with me.”_

_“…h—“_

_“You heard me, pup.  Come with me.”_

_“…w…wait a minute.  Why do you--?”_

_“Ah~So you have a voice.  Look, pup, I am going now, if you want to come with me…tag along.”_

_When I began to turn away from his hesitating figure, my own hazel crystals caught a shine in his own golden brown irises—A thank you…I saw in those eyes.  He was coming, then.  Nice._

_“—Call me Aoba, okay?”_

_“…A…Aoba.  Arigatou, Aoba…”_

_~~~~~_

_The memories…The memories were fading away…resembling a scattering vapour beneath the garden of growing wind._

_‘Ao…ba…’_

_‘…Aoba.’_

_His voice echoed inside my mind.  A slave…I still don’t understand, I don’t want to.  No.  I don’t want to._


End file.
